Contrast
by ever6
Summary: Ryan finds a little hope, thanks to Seth. I would love feedback...


~~Contrast~~  
  
Ryan was used to it, being alone. He was used to the feeling. Not lonely, just - alone. When you've never had something, or in this case someone, you don't know to miss it.  
  
He had learned at a very young age to keep his head down, staying out of everyone's way - his Mom, her lowlife boyfriends, his brother. He lived his life quietly, trying to fade into the background like a ghost. It was very simple; if you didn't make noise or attract attention, you didn't get beat up as much. They didn't yell at you. Lowlifes with mean eyes turned evil by cocaine and a 12-pack didn't put cigarettes out on the back of your hand; watching as you struggled not to cry, not to scream, not to react to the searing pain.  
  
By the age of 13, he was a master at not reacting. He'd acknowledge the noise around him, the waste of his mother's life, the abuse, but he would show absolutely nothing on his face. He would defend himself the best he could when he needed to, but he would never give anyone the satisfaction of knowing his fear or his anger. No one saw his confusion or the way he hurt, deep inside, always aching.  
  
The ache was his heart reacting for him, conflicted - accepting this chaos as his life while also instinctively outraged that it was. It was his heart breaking.  
  
When the Cohen's decided they wanted to be his legal guardians, that they wanted to help him, he had been overwhelmed. He was happy, hell - thrilled, to have escaped his old life, but the sight of his mother walking away, abandoning him - again - would be forever burned into his memory. It haunted him, appearing every night when he closed his eyes, leading him down the well-worn path in his mind that wondered what he had done so wrong, why she didn't love him, and God, what if no one could. If he left a window open a little at night, he could hear the waves steadily pounding the beach below, and the sound, in time, would push his agonized thoughts out and replace them with calm, lulling him to sleep. It was good to wake up to quiet, interrupted only by the waves and an occasional bird singing. It was good to head into the house and join Seth for cereal and the latest comic book. It was not a surprise that this so quickly became the favorite part of his day. A short time ago, morning would consist of making breakfast in hopes of getting food and coffee down his hung over mom - if he was able to wake her. He would encourage, demand, or plead, whatever it took to get her to work; hoping she made it on time, praying she wouldn't get fired again. All the while being careful not to disturb A.J., because as mean as he was drunk, he was worse awake and hung over. Then, on to the business of leaving the house as quickly as possible and staying away as long as he could, that was his old routine. Yeah, he liked this one better.  
  
After a while, life with the Cohen's stabilized and his quiet mornings faded from a sharp contrast into somewhat normal. Having Seth around was therapy, he sometimes thought, but not just because his quick wit and sarcastic observations never failed to amuse him. Seth had looked him over that first morning they met, while he waited, wary of a confrontation. Seth duly noted his embarrassing, even shameful situation, their distinct background differences, and without judgment, offered him unconditional friendship in the form of a Playstation-2 controller. Ryan had been floored. After hearing his mother talk about A.J. at dinner, and seeing her in action at Casino Night, Seth asked him hard questions about his life, questions that made him think, questions no one had ever been interested enough to ask before. He didn't pry, he just put them out there, and if Ryan didn't answer he was fine with it, he understood and moved on to the next subject that occurred to his ever-active brain. At first Ryan didn't answer many, sometimes because the topic still felt like an open wound, and he wasn't ready. There were some parts of his past he would probably never tell Seth about, things that were better just left alone. But most of the time, he didn't answer because he didn't know how. He had spent so much of his life alone, so much time inside his own head, that he found it very hard to vocalize his thoughts and emotions to anyone. They were intensely personal and also, it felt like a huge leap of faith to remove them from safekeeping and throw them out for someone else to see. He had kept Seth's questions in the back of his mind, mulling over them, putting together answers and getting familiar with it, with how it would sound if he said it out loud. Then, a couple of days later, when they were quiet, reading together, he had felt ready and starting talking. He'd kept his head down, facing his book while he spoke. He'd watched from the corner of his eye, as Seth looked over at him, instantly understanding what he was referring to. He'd gone on quietly until the words stopped coming to his mouth, then waited for Seth's reaction. Seth had given him a moment, not letting the silence become uncomfortable, just long enough to make sure he was done, that there was nothing else he wanted to add. He had put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, his eyes showing no pity, just compassion, and he'd suggested they take the bike and the skateboard out. That was it. No analysis, no awkwardness, and once again no judgment, just an understanding that he was ready to listen or talk any time Ryan wanted to. Exactly what Ryan needed.  
  
Since then, slowly, it had gotten increasingly easier for him to open up with Seth, and sometimes with his parents. He was able to add to conversations at the dinner table, feeling a bit more like a part of the household and not the guest who should just eat and say little. He never felt like he belonged here, like it couldn't all disappear in an instant with one wrong move, but it was starting to feel familiar. Seth's mom and dad were very perceptive, realizing he wasn't used to a family around him, in his business all the time. Giving him the pool house gave him some independence, but they were careful to make sure he knew that being part of a family, their family, meant following some rules. He had no problem with that. He owed them. They tried to show the same interest in him that they showed Seth, asking about his day or whatever, always buying him something whenever they bought Seth something, things like that. Sometimes he would cook dinner for them all, and he would turn around from the stove to find Kirsten home from work, smiling - fondly? - at him as she came over to watch, laughingly asking which dish he was making better than she did, this time. They both knew she hadn't wanted him here originally, not until they'd found his mom and she'd bailed on him again. But moments like that in the kitchen made him wonder if she might be starting to like him a little. It made him wonder if she and Sandy weren't just giving a poor kid a chance at a life, but if they really might think of him as family, like everyone kept saying. Probably not, he decided. Maybe.  
  
Seth had all kinds of plans for them. Go here, do that - Ryan had always smiled and agreed that would be awesome, while thinking "it would be awesome but I probably won't be here long enough". The thought of leaving Seth now was - well, it would be really bad. Yeah, he had Trey, but Seth had taught him what a brother was supposed to be like. When he first moved into the pool house, it was overwhelming having Seth around all the time. He was used to being alone. Alone was normal. Soon though, he had come to love hanging out with him, having serious conversations about comics, movies or life, and silly ones about women. They had daily battles with video games, and whenever Ryan won, Seth would be hilariously pissed off at him and proud of him at the same time. Sometimes at night when he couldn't sleep, sitting alone in the dark with his own thoughts would be too much to handle, and he'd look up at the window of his room to see if the light was on, then find himself in the house tapping on his door. Seth always knew when he felt really bad; he would just look at Ryan and know that he should launch into one of his funny, longwinded rants about anything, to take his mind somewhere else. Other times he would invite him in, always glad for the company, then make small talk while settling into his chair, just waiting until Ryan felt like talking about what was going on in his head.  
  
Still, when he went to bed, closing his eyes always brought the image of his mother's betrayal. But lately he was able to overpower it with thoughts he'd just recently allowed himself to think. Living here could work - it might not be the short stop at the next station he'd convinced himself it was. Maybe he could start over. Maybe all the bad stuff was behind him and he could make this happen. He had a real friend, a brother now, and while the jury was still out on this one, he had two other people that might care about him. He didn't remember how to be alone. He didn't want to. 


End file.
